My day at the beach.

We don’t go to the beach all that much, although it’s really only just down the street from our house. And it’s Hawaii. It’s odd, as we were very excited about being this close to the ocean, and truth be told, we’ve been there less than ten times since we arrived last December. The same sort of thing happened when we lived in Wildwood.

But, I like to go the beach down the street, that most would consider a “local” beach, and I have in fact been told by some that I should be careful going there as being a “Haole,” I might not be welcome. But that has not been the case to date. I have had no problems at this beach, and have gotten more work done there than anywhere else on the island.

In case you are wondering…“Haole” is a word that the locals use to describe that which is not native, or in its indigenous definition means “outsider.” Typically, it is used to refer to Caucasians, and it is not seen by most as a derisive term. Not every Haole likes it, but so it goes.

When I get a break from things at home, and am able to leave the house by myself to write, I go down to the beach, and I park the car, and I sit in the lot that is 30 yards from the water, and I work. I have always been productive there, and as the beach plays a role in the novel, it has always seemed like the right place to go. It is quiet, and despite my Haole-ness, no one has ever once bothered me. Most people there are surfing, or gathering among themselves.

So I went there today to write, the wife giving me a break in gracious fashion, and I made a real breakthrough on a chapter that I’ve been hung up on for some time. I was doing some productive work, and then it was time to go. So, I backed out and was set to head home, but I noticed that the higher ridge was empty. There’s an area right on the shore that is always occupied, and no one was there tonight, so I figured I’d drive through and check the view.

So I did. Driving the Honda Odyssey. You will note of course that, the Odyssey is not a sport utility vehicle. This would have been a truly delightful realization for me to have had before. I got stuck that is. I had driven only forty some feet when I knew I had made a huge mistake.

The Minivan was stuck in the sand. I thought perhaps I could back out of it, and much to my chagrin, I was no longer driving my beloved Subaru Outback…I was driving a Mini Van. And I was stuck.

So, I tried to dig out. There was no one anywhere near me at the time, so I figured I could just dig out and be gone.

I was wrong and it was clear that I was in a situation similar to the one that the wife and I found ourselves in back during our honeymoon in Ireland, so....

Using the Patented “Way-Back” Machine, I’ll share this one:
The back passenger tire or our small and economical rental car, which we picked up at the Shannon Airport, blew a tire in the middle of the Irish countryside, and then the cheap-ass jack from the rental car broke as I was trying to fix it. I looked to the left…grass and sheep. I looked to the right, grass and sheep. The occasional tour bus blew by us, and more than one sheep bleeted at me in what I would translate to be an unpleasant manner.

And then there was nothing. For quite some time, we were alone in the Irish countryside, with nothing save my own irritation and the dulcet sounds of the radio, which for some reason was playing “I Want it that Way” by the Backstreet Boys, and “That Don’t Impress me Much” by Shania Twain thrice an hour, while they played local bands like Travis, and Robbie Williams, who’s music did much more for me, far less, but consistently. I digress, but I still think Travis is a good band.

Long was it that we sat there by the side of that road with no one to call. My Irish family was a good 250 miles away, and we’d not yet met them.

So, we sat, for a long time. Then an older man pulled up in a Ford Pickup, a Step-side, which I remember driving when I worked at the Monmouth Battlefield Park. It was at the time an odd remembrance, but as we were potentially late for our check-in at out first honeymoon suite, I welcomed his slow-down.

He got out of his truck and walked to me, asking me, what I assume was “Do you need help?” in perfect Gaelic, which I speak less of now than I did then. After several moments of confusing conversation, it became clear that he could understand me, but I could not do the same for him. I was embarrassed, but felt better when he smiled and pulled a gigantic Jack-lift out of the bed of his truck. I didn’t see jacks like this when I worked with the Garbage truck or the postal service, so I knew this man could help me.

And he did. Long story less long, he helped me change the tire out, and the wife and I were on our way, which is another story entirely.

But, this man, that I could not even thank properly had stopped and helped me, just because he could. I’ve never forgotten that, and I think of him now and then.

Honestly, I think of him a lot of late. There is a bumper sticker that is very popular here in Hawaii. I saw it for the first time while I was sitting at Don Ho’s Island Grill, and we were looking for a house here back in October. It was plastered to the bar, so I asked the bartender about it, as all it said was “Eddie Would Go.”

It turns out that those three words carried an awful lot of weight here in Hawaii. They refer to a man named Eddie Aikau, who’s amazing life I could not do justice in this space (though you can read about him here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddie_Aikau )

The short version, is that Eddie is a legend here as both a lifeguard on the North Shore and as a surfer. As a lifeguard on the perilous North Shore, he became known as the guy who would go to help someone when no one else would. He died as part of an expedition seeking to recreate the migratory route between Hawaii and Tahitian Islands via double-hulled canoes. When one of the vessels began to leak, Eddie volunteered to go-to use his surfboard to paddle towards the Island of Lanai.

He was never seen again, but his spirit of selflessness is something that is celebrated here very openly. And why shouldn’t it be? I think that at our best most of us hope to be strong enough to sacrifice for others, and selfless enough to at the very least, help others from time to time.
So, my man in Ireland, and Eddie Aikau were in my mind this evening as I was inexorably stuck in the sand at the beach because I am a dumbass and got the Mini Van stuck in the sand.
And as I start digging, I’m still hoping, like that high school kid who has broken something in his parents home that he knows he can’t fix, but yet he tries, over and over.

I knew right away that I would not get out of this pit without help. The van is only front-wheel drive, and I had buried them both in pretty good. That didn’t stop me from trying, nor did it stop me from telling the wife that she did not need to call our friends to come out and help me.
That was selfish on my part, but as I look back on it, the idea of having my wife call one of our friends to have the husband of that couple come out to bail out my dumbass, was waaaay in my mind to try to avoid. I’m already a stay-at-home dad to them…

So, I told her I was working on it. And I was, as I lolled about in the sand, trying to give the wheels some kind of traction.

It didn’t work. Other people started

to show up at the beach. Most of them laughed at me, unrepentantly. There I was, chest deep in sand, digging out my car. A lot of locals slowed down to laugh at me. A group parked near me, within fifteen feet, and set up their luau right next me.

They were all women, one of whom turned out to be pregnant, but they spent the next half hour mocking me tremendously.

And so I dug. And dug. And Failed. I was going to need help, and I thought about my Irish friend, and about Eddie in that moment, as I also thought about my earlier column about the NJ Attitude vs. the Aloha Spirit. In my mind, if I'm being honest, I started thinking about how the "Aloha Spirit" was dead. I've been missing Jersey anyway...so it fit my mindset.

I had a lot of time to dig. I covered a lot of ground. The ladies next door had a great time watching me. Several cars, trucks, motorcycles, scooters. And bicycles, wove their way past me without a word. A lot of them laughed once they got a loot at me.
And then, I heard a truck stop, and a young man and his Dad stepped out.

“Do you need help, yeah?” he asked.

Screw Pride-I was fracked, so I said, “yeah, I really do.”
And so it went that I met Keith and Jesse. Father and son. I still don’t know what they were doing on this beach at this time, but they were there, and after they helped me, they went home, without staying.

So I’m not sure why they were there. They asked me if I had rope, which regrettably I did not. Clearly not my only shortcoming today, so then they drove back to their home, to get rope.
I started to dig again as they drove off, and the kid called out, “We’ll be back, yeah.”
I was hopeful that they would return, but not sure. At that point I did not know their names, nor did I know anything about them. It turns out, as they did return, that Jesse’s dad, a union man according to his bumper sticker, had gotten stuck similarly a while back.
And so they stopped. They helped. They got rope and came back and I tied the car up and with their help, and the help of the Marine and his brother that showed up at the moment of the last push, the van was free.

Once the van was free, I got to talk with them, and Keith and his son Jesse, in that moment were very much akin to the man in Ireland, and to Eddie, at least in my estimation.
While people were driving by, and laughing at my Haole-self trying in vain to dig myself out of a dummass jam, there was help on the way.

In all honestly, I was driving deep into my own cynicism before they stopped to help. I was waiting to be disappointed and was writing a blog in my head about how the Aloha Spirit is dead.
And then, Keith and Jesse stopped the truck.

Once I was out they asked what I was doing there, and I told them that I came here to write.
The kid asked what kind of things I wrote, and I told him I was working on a novel, and that I’d include them in it. He seemed to pop on that, and I think that all things considered, I won't have a genuine problem honoring that.

It’s just too a good a story to have been an accident.